


eat it whole

by TheDragonofHouseMormont



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Historical Inaccuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonofHouseMormont/pseuds/TheDragonofHouseMormont
Summary: That look is back in her eyes, and up close it is stronger.  There is something in it that he recognizes now – a hunger, a desire.  But there is something else as well, a sort of strength.  She shouldn’t look at him like that.  He doesn’t want her to ever stop.She has no need to fear monsters anymore. | a supernatural au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Do to the darkness what a seed knows best; eat it whole, grow." - Scherezade Siobhan

There are monsters in this world.  She learned this when she was a child.  She learned this in the hardest way.  And as she stares out at the gathering of important men before her, she knows that monsters don’t always look like monsters.  Any one of them could have their secrets, any one of them could be plotting her downfall.  Some of them are smiling in that awkward way that betrays how displeased they are with their new monarch, most of them aren’t smiling at all.  It makes her falter at first, this knowledge that none of the men in the room have any faith in her, not even her own blood.

But there is one face among them, as she glances at it, that shows only warmth, a small nod of encouragement.  So she steels herself, speaks up, and tells them how capable she knows she is.  The Prime Minister may not know all that much about her, she is aware, but if he can already believe in her ability, then others may do so as well.

She has no need to fear monsters anymore.

-

The day at Buckingham had been spent so well now that he is finally getting acquainted with the Queen.  Still, the day manages to come down to this.

“But you are a man, and she is a very young and impressionable woman,” Conroy has the audacity to say to his face, switching the subject from politics to something else altogether.  Lord Melbourne is no stranger to such accusations, but the offense feels greater this time, as if he has only just stumbled upon the sun and already they are arriving to shroud his days in darkness with their words.  He turns to walk past, but it seems the indignant man is not through.  “And she is impulsive.”

At that Lord Melbourne feels the need to speak up.  “I am not convinced her age is as against her as you seem to believe.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the man responds with barely concealed anger.  “Her mother and I have not kept a tight hold on her all these years for nothing.”

“I think you already know my opinion on your _tight hold_ , Sir Conroy.”  And this time he does manage to make his escape.

But even as he walks away he hears behind him, just loud enough, “At least now you’ve been warned.”

He walks until he finds himself alone once more, in a darkened room, his reflection before him.  He is not surprised that such rumours have followed him to this new chapter of his life; he will likely never be free of them.  But the Queen –

The Queen is like the morning light in a meadow, the last of the moths following its rays.  Her laughter is the bloom of wildflowers, her smile the soil in which they grow.  His time with her is like an undisturbed silence, a place that feels safe.  It’s been years since he thought about poetry, even longer since he read any, but if poetry truly takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility, then he cannot help but wonder if this is the storm before the calm.  For when he thinks of her eyes, the way they shine like moonlight, he feels no desire, in spite of the society in which they live, to see her reigned in.

-

“She seems to be managing quite well,” he says to Emma.  He had no intention to attend the coronation ball, but the Queen was insistent.

He can feel Emma staring up at him, but he won’t return her gaze.  “She’ll be happy that you chose to come.  Although, the Baroness and I tried to persuade her to change the date to another evening.”

Now his curiosity is piqued.  “Certainly not because—”

“No, for another reason altogether.  There are practical reasons why tonight was not a good choice, but the date was set and she refused to change it.  She thought it would make her seem indecisive.  As it is, she won’t be able to stay on the dance floor much longer.”

He shifts, tearing his gaze from the Queen dancing with the Grand Duke.  “Is she unwell?”

“Nothing like that, no.  It is a… personal matter she must attend to.”

But as she said the word ‘personal’ it became evident that the Grand Duke was getting too personal in his dancing, and other guests were beginning to notice.  Melbourne acts as he can, having the Grand Duke discretely removed from the room.  There is no way for them to be entirely discreet, the reason for his removal is all too obvious, as is the Queen now standing alone on the floor, surrounded by dancers on all sides, and looking a bit uncertain after the abruptness of the events of the past minute.

It’s as good an excuse as any, that she needs another dance partner.  Far easier than swallowing down the knowledge that she may as well be a celestial body, that he cannot escape her gravity.  As soon as she catches his eye she sets her glass down without looking away.  She stares up at him even as her arms encircle his own and for a moment he almost lets himself wonder if perhaps she feels the same pull as him.

He dismisses her concerns that he would not show himself at the ball as carefully as he can, not wanting to ruin her evening, not wanting to announce his grief aloud.  “It is my understanding that tonight is not all that good for you either, but that you insisted the ball would be held.”

She nods slowly.  “They worry, but the event has been thoroughly planned.  I will leave when I need to and I will keep my behavior in check.”

“Your behavior?”

“They feel as if I am too impulsive.”  He smiles at that.  She is too impulsive, but she is honest and he would not wish it any other way.  “I wish I could dance with you every night.”

He’s surprised to find they are still dancing for he feels some part of him must have stopped.  There is something in her eyes, something he can’t quite pin down, that is both frightening and exhilarating in equal measure.  He cannot even bring himself to deny how he is drawn to it, drawn to her, which is dangerous for them both.  So when the dance comes to an end, he pulls himself from her, drawing himself back into a distant orbit.

It is not that much later when his attention is forced back to her.  “To tell me what to do?”  Her voice rises above the quieter conversations and there she is, standing in the center with all eyes on her and her outburst.  He is at her side instantly, walking her from the room to help her escape the prying eyes.

“I’m afraid you’re tired ma’am, perhaps you should retire,” he says to her in the safety of the corridor.

“But I don’t want to retire; I want to dance with you,” and she leans into his space, far closer than when they had been dancing.

That look is back in her eyes, and up close it is stronger.  There is something in it that he recognizes now – a hunger, a desire.  But there is something else as well, a sort of strength.  She shouldn’t look at him like that.  He doesn’t want her to ever stop.  “Not tonight, ma’am.”

The Queen doesn’t get the chance to respond.  “There you are,” a voice says from behind her and Lord Melbourne looks up to seem Emma standing a short distance away.  He tries to hold the Queen away from him, and there is no knowing look in Emma’s eyes this time, only concern.  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says to the young woman before him.  The Queen finally turns around to face her lady.  “We should have left several minutes ago.  It was not safe to remain so long.”

For the first time that evening the Queen looks as though she has been scolded.  “My apologies, Lady Portman, I lost track of time.”  She allows Emma to take her arm and lead her down the hall, leaving Lord Melbourne to simply watch.

-

All the words, all the warnings and scoldings she’d received growing up, come flooding back to her.  Perhaps they were right all along, her mother and Sir Conroy, every time they said she was impulsive, every time they said she couldn’t do this alone and doubted whether she could do this at all.  She has her doubts now too.  Flora Hastings is dead after Victoria’s own mistreatment of her.  She knows now she should have handled the situation differently, but what good is that knowledge?  If her mother is truly right about her, she will only make the same mistakes again.

“Morning, ma’am,” a voice that can be no other but Lord M’s calls from behind her.

“I can’t do it,” she admits aloud.  “Everything is ruined.  It’s all my fault.”  He sits down beside her, yet remains silent.  “You must understand, Lord M, while I have appreciate the support you have shown me since the day we met, it is unfounded.”  She glances at him and see him open his mouth to interrupt her, so she rushes forward in her speech.  “There are things about me that you do not know.”

He takes a steadying breath.  “Perhaps.  But I suspect I know you better than you think.”

She looks at him through watery eyes, though she is determined not to cry.  “They have been so against me from the start.  Because I am a woman.  Because I am young.  I do what I can to ignore such comments; but there is something else, another mark against me.  I fear they are correct.”

“They are not,” he says, resolute.  “I may not know the name of the fear that plagues you now, but I know how capable you are.”  So he tells her about his son, about a child’s fear of the dark and sees a spark of recognition in her eyes.  Does she share that fear?  He does not know.  He tells her how she illuminated the dark in his own life, how she chased away the shadows.  Things may not be perfect, but she has lent him her strength, now he offers his own in return.

So she takes it, mounting the horse, riding in front of a crowd she imagines so set against her.  She does not smile, but she holds herself up, she breathes deeply, forcing her heart to calm.

-

Her letter to Lord M sent, Victoria sits by the window, letting the crescent moonlight wash over her.  Dash hops into her lap and she scratches behind his ear, her gaze on the darkened view below.  “Do you ever just want to leave Dash?”

He merely licks her palm and she laughs, wiping her hand on her nightgown.

“It’s not that I want to leave forever or that I don’t wish to be queen, but I would very much like to _breathe._ This place might be better than Kensington, but it’s still so confining at times.”  Tearing her gaze from the window, she looks down at her oldest friend.  “I suppose not.  To you this palace must seem like the world.”

-

Her world comes tumbling down with a five vote lead.  She does not want to lose Lord Melbourne, especially their friendship, but since her meeting with Sir Robert Peel, she feels attacked from all sides, and it is all she can do to hold fast to the ruins.

That is how Emma finds her, at her desk with her mind working fast to find a solution to this mess that will save some parts of her feelings of safety and warmth, if not reinstate her happiness entirely.  “What is it your mind works at so late, ma’am?”

Victoria turns slightly in her seat to face her lady.  “I’m attempting to work out some strategy that will enable me to defeat my opponent.”

She watches concern ripple across Emma’s face as the lady takes a seat across from her.  “Sir Robert Peel is likely to be the next Prime Minister, ma’am, it can hardly help to consider him an enemy.”

“But he is,” the Queen erupts.  “He wishes to take all that is dear to me.”

“And what is that?”

“You, for a start.”  Victoria sees how Emma sits a little straighter at that, her expression more controlled, so she continues.  “He wishes to take my ladies and replace them with Tory spies.”

“I don’t think spies—”

“Yes, Emma, spies.  I know what they think of me.  I know they wish to discredit me.  But that is not what matters here.”  Victoria takes a breath, composing herself.  “I trust you, all of you.  You _know_ how important that is to me.”

Emma nods, solemn.  “I know.  But I know that he only wishes to have the support of his monarch.  We are all at your service, ma’am, and if you must replace some of us, we will understand.”

“But I cannot replace you,” Victoria shakes her head.  “Perhaps the other ladies do not know as much as yourself, but I do trust them.  I trust them enough that I wish to one day bring them into my confidence as well.  I cannot simply replace some of them with women I do not know, especially women with which I will have to be twice as cautious.”

Emma nods.  “This probably isn’t likely to go away any time soon.”

“I know.”  Victoria’s eyes blink rapidly as she urges herself to remain composed.  She will find a solution, she must.  “But in a few days _the time_ will be upon us again.  That is what I must prepare for.  Fortunately, we may spend that evening at Windsor, away from prying eyes.”

-

Melbourne doesn’t expect the invitation to Windsor that weekend.  It wasn’t that it was so unusual for him to receive such invitations, even since his resignation, keeping his distance has not been the easiest of tasks, but this invitation didn’t come from the Queen.  It was sent to him by Conroy.

As he turns the letter over in his hands, he wonders at its purpose.  Is it sincere?  Doubtful.  More likely it is some sort of trap set to humiliate the Queen even further.  More fuel for the rumours that she is unfit to rule.  Melbourne should make his excuses, refuse to attend.

Yet, if it is a trap, it is his duty as her friend to be there for her, to protect her as he can.

So he goes.

-

“Who invited these guests for the evening?” Victoria asks Emma with a panicked look that she can’t quite hide.

Emma, for her part, is much better at concealing her concern, though it still leaks through.  She grabs the queen’s arm, pulling her down the corridor and maybe Victoria should be angry at being handled so, but she trusts Emma almost as much as she trusts Lor— She trusts Emma more than anyone.  They finally come to a stop and her lady turns to her.  “Sir Conroy invited them.  Apparently, there is to be a dinner.”

“But I did not approve this!”  Her voice is too loud, too harsh, but it takes all her energy not to simply growl it.  Conroy knows everything, he knows how vital the evening is.

“He hid it well,” is all Emma says.

Victoria takes a deep breath, trying to restrain herself.  “Then he is planning something, and he has trapped us here.”  At that moment, naturally, when she already has enough to deal with, she hears Lord M’s voice in the other room with the rest of the guests.  She has been trying her hardest to tune out all the guests, her hearing too sharp on nights like this, and it’s exhausting.  But she’d know his voice anywhere, no matter how hard she tried not to.  And if this weren’t already a nightmare, it most certainly is now.  Conroy can only have one of two reasons to invite him; either to make the Prime Minister share in her humiliation and expedite his already failing career or to sever their already threatened bond with finality, leaving her no friends outside her ladies.  The latter seems more likely.

She needs to invent a plan that will save all their reputations and leave the night a wholly unremarkable one.  Dusk is fast approaching, but with a public that is currently less than thrilled with her, she can’t simply cancel her own appearance at dinner and leave Windsor – it would raise too many questions.  So she straightens her shoulders, standing as tall as her height will allow.  “I will go in there, I will smile and go on as if nothing is wrong, and then I will retire early.”

They will never know how hard it is to bear.

-

She refuses to look at him, it’s the only conclusion Melbourne can come to.  His eyes repeatedly find her throughout the evening against his will, like she’ll always be the center point, but they never find her eyes.  She is always turned away from him and there are no small, private moments where their gazes meet and they pass whole sentences between them in silence.  No smiles that are too wide to be entirely secret.  No cause for rumour, which he hopes can only be a good thing, can mean that she is trying to adjust to the change in government.  She may detest Robert Peel, but he will be the next Prime Minister.

Melbourne is broken from his thoughts when someone steps in front of him, breaking his view of the Queen.  He focuses on the person in front of him and notices it’s the Queen’s mother just as she starts speaking.  “Lord Melbourne,” she says in a hushed tone.  “I imagine you must have been suspicious as to why Conroy would invite you here.”

“Curious, at least,” he responds with no small amount of caution.

She looks around but apparently finds nothing of concern as she continues speaking, “He invited you because he has some plan in motion, one I am ashamed to say I encouraged before I understood just how far he intended to take things.”  It takes all of Melbourne’s willpower to keep silent as his anger rises, but he waits for her to finish.  “I am telling you this because I need you to stop his plan without making a scene.”

Her apparent willingness to betray Conroy is more than a little worrying.  “What is it that he intends to do?”

“I don’t know the exact details,” she says, shaking her head.  “There are things you don’t know about Drina, and I won’t say them out loud, but Sir Conroy and the Duke of Cumberland plan to expose them this evening.  If they succeed they will not only end her reign, they will end her life.  I cannot risk that.”

Melbourne may dislike the duchess immensely, but in this at least their cause is the same.  He nods, “I will do what I can.”

His response seems to satisfy her, as she steps away from him and turns to speak with someone else.  He continues to look for the Queen, only this time, instead of her being the point he is always pulled back to, he watches her with purpose, keeping her in his periphery.

He moves from conversation to conversation, saying as little as possible but keeping up the pretense just enough without breaking his concentration on the matter at hand.  Both Conroy and Cumberland seem their usual selves and Melbourne begins to wonder if the duchess was wrong or if warning him was part of the plan, when he notices Emma whisper something to the Queen and they both appear to be preparing to depart.  He extricates himself from the current conversation he was not really participating in to call for his own carriage, and tries his hardest to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

A few others are also leaving early, but he pays them no mind except to think that the departure of several people at once may hopefully conceal the oddity of the Queen leaving when she has rooms at Windsor.  He is uncertain himself why she’s departing early, hoping that she just has some late night business to attend to and is unaware that anything – if anything – is wrong.

When his carriage finally sets out it’s at the end of a line of several carriages, the Queen’s at the front.  Perhaps any danger they might have been presented with has now been avoided as the carriages roll on in the darkness, under the light of the moon.

He can’t see it at first, he can only hear the raised voices, someone shouting instructions and horses coming to a stop.  Then his own journey has been abruptly halted, and he leans his head out the window to try to see what is happening.  At first he sees others looking out with the same confusion as him, but further ahead he can make out that the whole line of carriages has been stopped, beginning with the Queen’s.  There are a couple of men speaking with her driver, but he can’t tell what they’re saying.

Then a carriage door opens, the one behind the Queen’s, and out steps the Duke of Cumberland.  And Melbourne knows this is the moment the Duchess of Kent feared.  He opens his door and walks to the front of the line, working to appear as calm as possible.  As he approaches he sees the Queen and Emma step out as well and speak in hushed, yet angry, tones with Cumberland.

But then he gets closer and she sees him, and her faces turns from angry to panicked.

“You can’t be here!” she all but yells at him.

He looks at her with confusion.  “What is going on?”

Instead of answering she looks from him to her uncle and back to him.  Then she looks to Emma who seems nearly as panicked as her.  And she grabs her skirt with both her hands and runs off, away from them and into the night, into the woods.

In the first second Melbourne has to restrain himself from running after her.  “What have you done?” he demands of Cumberland.

The man smirks.  “We knew there was a possibility that she would run.  She won’t get far.”

He won’t offer anything helpful, so Melbourne turns to set off toward the woods when a hand on his arm holds him in place.  Emma.

“It’s too dangerous,” she warns him.

His heart only speeds up with worry at that.  “Then it is all the more necessary that I find her before his men do.”

“Not for _her,_ it’s dangerous for _you._ There are things about her that you don’t understand.”

He looks at her, willing her to understand that he needs to do this.  “I can’t abandon her to this.”

He can see the conflict cross her features – her fear, her understanding, but she lets go of his arm.

He turns away from her and walks into the woods.

-

_He stops in his search when something catches his eye, almost shimmering in the dim light.  He reaches down and grabs it.  A piece of fabric.  Fabric from_ her _dress.  He tries not to think about what that could mean as he picks up the pace._

_Everything is trees and roots he tries not to trip over and white light from the moon filtering down between leaves.  Then he sees something up ahead.  Not something small and pale like fabric, but something large and almost too dark to glimpse properly.  But it moves – bone under tissue, limbs stretching out – and he slows down, approaching it with caution._

_As he gets closer he can hear its breathing, fast like perhaps it is afraid.  Breathing turns to sniffing and he ceases all his movements, the fabric clutched tightly in his hand.  The beast turns around and faces his direction, and he holds his breath.  But he does not look away._

_And the eyes._ Her _eyes.  Eyes that shine like moonlight, that cannot cage the being she is inside.  Still, he does not dare take a breath, but he feels his heart slow, his body begin to relax just slightly.  If anything, he found her alive._

_A twig snaps, catching her attention._


	2. Chapter 2

Warmth, that’s the first thing she feels, the gentle rays of sunlight drifting in through the window and landing on her neck and face.  She shifts her legs under the blanket, rolling onto her back and opening her eyes.  The sight before her is not her ceiling, but leaves and branches that slowly take shape into trees.  Victoria jolts up to sitting, trying to piece together where she is.  Looking down, she realizes her completely nude state apart from the men’s coat she had mistaken for a blanket.  She clutches it, quickly pulling it up to her neck to keep her body covered.

She closes her eyes, trying to remember.  _Roots, bark, shouting, running, the smell of meat not far,_ but that’s it.  Remembering has never been her strongest skill.

“You’re awake.”  Her attention snaps up to the all-too-familiar voice, and something frightened and anxious takes root in her stomach.  “You were only asleep a couple of hours and I thought it best not to move you until you had woken.”

Lord M steps over a low shrub as he makes his way to her.  She clutches what she now assumes to be his coat even tighter.  “Where are we?” she asks.  Her face feels stiff.

“The woods outside Windsor.”  He doesn’t come too closely, remaining a good ten feet away.  “You left the dinner last night early, but they tried to block you from leaving.  Still, your secret is safe.”

“But you know what it is?”  Is he afraid of her?  He still won’t approach too near.

“I do now, yes.”

She’d spent two years afraid this day would come, and now it has arrived.  “I – I need to get inside.”  She scrambles her legs under her before attempting to stand up.

“Uh, yes, but first—” he inches closer to her before stepping back again, his hands fidgeting in the air with uncertainty, wincing like it hurt to come near.  “You have something,” his hand reaches up to his own face to signal that something is on hers.

She gently touches her right cheek, sliding her fingertips to the corner of her mouth, and feels the dried, peeling blood that must have been caked on for hours.  Her eyes grow wide and she scrambles back through the dirt and leaves that she’s still sitting in, her fingers scratching along her face in an attempt to violently scrape it away.  “Get it off, get it off,” she sobs as she feels tears glide down and mix with the blood.

“Here, it’s alright.”  This time he steps across the distance between them with ease, coming to kneel down before her.  His face shows none of the disgust that she feels, instead he looks like he’s trying to appear reassuring.  He pulls the sleeve of his shirt up to the palm of his hand and begins to rub at her face with it.  “It’s alright,” he repeats.

“What did I?”  She can’t finish the question as her throat catches with another sob.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” he tells her softly.  “You simply caught some small animal.”

The thought of some small, defenseless creature caught grotesquely between her teeth does nothing to quell the twisting fear and disgust within her.  “Are you certain?”

“I’m very certain.”  He stops rubbing his sleeve along her face and she misses the comfort of it almost instantly.  “There, you’re fairly clean now.”  He stands back up and extends a hand to her.  She accepts it with one hand, her other still holding the coat to her naked form.  He pulls her to her feet.  “I’ll just,” he mumbles as he awkwardly pivots to face away from her.

She takes the cue and wraps the coat around her, the sleeves several inches longer than her own arms.  Rolling them back, she frees her hands enough to fold the coat around her front, holding it in place to keep herself as covered as possible.  “I’ve got it on now.”

He spins back to her.  “We should probably return you to Windsor, then.”

They walk side by side in silence through the trees, and he always keeps a minimum of three feet between them.  Victoria wishes she could piece more of the evening together, but is equally as thankful to not know what happened.  Whatever it was, whatever she did, he can barely manage to look at her anymore.  Maybe it’s a good thing, then, that she is losing him as her prime minister.  She doesn’t think she could bear to lose his friendship and still have to work alongside him.

Eventually, though a part of her thinks far too soon, Windsor looms over them.  As they get closer she realizes that he has led her to a side entrance while she was still too shaken up to even really notice where they were going.  As soon as they break from the tree line, the door opens and Emma hurries down the steps toward them.

“You’re safe,” she breathes when she’s close enough to not have to speak too loudly.  “Good.  I haven’t heard a word from anyone.”  As the three of them stop moving, Emma finally takes in the state of Victoria’s clothing.  “What are you wearing?”  Her eyes drift up to Melbourne in question before landing back on Victoria.

“There wasn’t enough time,” Victoria answers.  “I ran as far into the trees as I could before I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I don’t think my dress survived.”

“What happened?” Emma inquires with a hint of desperation.

Victoria opens her mouth to respond but closes it a moment later when she remembers that she still doesn’t have a sufficient answer.

Melbourne notices her hesitation and steps in to help.  “Fortunately, I can answer.  I found her shortly after she had… transformed.  I never saw any of the other men and she never hurt anyone.  She ate something small at one point, perhaps a rabbit, but spent most of the night simply walking around before finding a nice spot to fall asleep.  When I was certain that she wouldn’t easily wake, I placed my coat over her.  About an hour before sunrise she transformed back into herself.  I am certain of these events – I followed her the entire night.”

“And she never hurt you?”

_A twig snaps, her ear twitches and follows the sound—_

The question seems to catch him by surprise, but he recovers quickly.  “I don’t believe she ever noticed me.”

“Alright,” Emma calms down.  “I suppose you’ll be wanting to return home to sleep,” she dismisses him.  He glances at Victoria once last time before turning to leave them.  Emma’s attention shifts to Victoria.  “We need to get you inside and cleaned up.  Then we need to decide what to do because last night was too close.”

-

_A twig snaps, her ear twitches and follows the sound to the left of her, not too distant.  She crouches down low and takes slow, measured steps in its direction, listening for any sign of her prey.  There’s a sound, vocal, and she can sense the fear in it._

_From behind her comes another sound, another voice.  She looks back at them, unsure yet if they are new prey or a creature she will have to defend herself against.  What she finds is a man, stepping closer._

Victoria’s eyes spring open, her heart racing, as she sits up in bed.  Outside the window, the sky is still its darkest blue.

-

Rumours were spreading that she had inherited her grandfather’s madness, she can hear them whispering about it.  Her uncle’s fault most likely, though he probably had help from Conroy.  She turns her ear from those rumours now, focusing on appearing sane and stable as her guests gather for the unveiling of her portrait.

Lord Melbourne is in the room, she knows, but she keeps her eyes from searching for him.  He doesn’t seek her out either, and why should he?  He knows everything now.  He won’t want to serve a queen who’s a monster.

The time comes for the portrait to be revealed.  All her guests turn their attention to where it stands, leaving a wide berth for her to step through alone.  She straightens her shoulders and musters all of her grace as she walks before them, approaching the portrait with what she hopes appears as confidence and poise.

But then she tugs the cord and the fabric doesn’t come down.  She tugs it again, doing everything she can to keep from projecting anything resembling worry or incompetence, but still the cover remains.  She feels the weight of someone standing next to her and is mortified by the idea that they will all think she can’t manage to do something as simple as unveiling a portrait, so how could she possibly manage as their sovereign?  But then she hears “May I be of assistance, ma’am” in that so-familiar voice and she doesn’t know whether she should feel relieved or even more mortified.  Turning to look at him, his face only appears guarded.  “It would be a pleasure to serve you.”

She feels a tiny flutter of hope in her traitorous heartbeat.  But is that hope growing in his gaze as well?

Together they free the portrait of its cover to the applause of the guests behind them.  She steps back into the crowd as they all fall back into their individual conversations.  Melbourne remains at her side.  “I thought you would’ve found me too repulsive,” she confesses.

“Repulsive?” he questions with surprise.  She thinks she sees a little anger in his countenance as well, especially as his eyes flick for half a second to someone behind her.  “I assure you, ma’am, that is not the case.”

And then she smiles, wide.  Smiles in a way she hadn’t since before he nearly stepped down.  Maybe even longer.

-

“You must find a suitable husband,” Uncle Leopold insists.  “It is the only way to secure your place on the throne, and there are none more suitable than your cousin.”

Victoria fights back the urge to begin pacing.  She’s had to spend so much of her life in hiding, she doesn’t want to have to hide within her own home as well.  “I’m not so sure as you, Uncle.  Though I do like his letters, I know my cousin too well to ever presume that he would understand the person that I am, or that he could come to accept it.”

Leopold’s expression is pure confusion, but for a moment she is certain that her mother, sitting quietly for once, knows exactly what she means, and knows that it is true.

-

There’s a warmth she didn’t know she could feel, now that he holds her secret and does not detest her for it.  She tells him so, “Even though it means I cannot marry, it is still wonderful to have a friend.”

“Can’t marry, whatever do you mean?”

She looks up, catching his eye.  He holds her gaze for a moment before his eyes flick away.  “I’m afraid it’s too great a risk.  Few know my secret, and fewer have taken it well.  I can’t simply marry a man for his royal blood and hope he will seem me as you do,” that comment catches his attention and his gaze returns to hers, something painful and yearning in its depths.  “And I do not want a husband that simply tolerates me either.  I imagine that is the path to a miserable life and reign.”

“You can’t know how a husband will react to learning the truth.”

“You’re right, I can’t know for sure.  But though my upbringing was an isolated one, it wasn’t so isolated that I am unaware of the fickle nature of most men, especially royal men.  They do not wish for a flawed wife, and that is what I would be.”

“All humans are flawed, ma’am, but I do not believe that what we are discussing is a flaw!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—”  The question seems to catch him off guard, or his answer does.  “I wasn’t frightened of you that night.  I didn’t hide from you.  I saw what you were and I… I was in awe.  I felt for the first time I was privileged to know all of you, and you were magnificent.  You _are_ magnificent.  That wolf is just as much a part of you as the woman I see standing before me.”

The answer is what she’d been waiting to hear, the admission that there was more to that night than he’d let on.  More that she’s been trying to remember ever day since.  “Lord M, if you did not hide, how was it that I did not see you?”

He clamps his mouth shut, but does not take his eyes from hers.

“Lord M,” she begins again.  “I need to know what happened that night.  I need to remember.  My mother has begun to see sense, at least, but forget even that.  Forget, for a moment, that there is any duty here between us.  Know only, for a moment, that what I need is honesty, that what I need is someone by my side who can be my strength, who can know everything about me and offer me their wisdom without hesitation.  And if I am to have that, I will first need the truth.”

-

_The beast turns around and faces his direction, and he holds his breath.  But he does not look away._

_And the eyes._ Her _eyes.  Eyes that shine like moonlight, that cannot cage the being she is inside.  Still, he does not dare take a breath, but he feels his heart slow, his body begin to relax just slightly.  If anything, he found her alive._

_A twig snaps, catching her attention.  He can hear voices, muffled by the distance.  She hunches down, legs ready to bound her off in the direction of some man out here likely under Cumberland’s orders.  She would kill the man easily, and her condition would be exposed._

_“Victoria,” he whispers.  She doesn’t stop, but she doesn’t run off yet either.  “Victoria!” he says just a little louder.  She turns her head to look at him and he decides to approach her cautiously, hands up in surrender.  She could kill him just as easily as she could kill anyone._

_There is hesitation in her face, he can see it, but she straightens her legs and turns her whole body to face him.  When he’s a couple of feet away from her, he pauses, trying to work out what to do next.  How can he encourage her to remain where it is safe?_

_She takes a step forward, and her stride is large enough that the one step brings her inches from his face.  He holds his breath, afraid that the slightest move might set her off.  She swings her head down and then back up, catching her nose under his chin.  His head knocks back a bit, but then he feels the tickle of her rough fur on his cheek._

_He laughs and brings his hand up to the other side of her face, petting back the fur.  “Hello, there,” he can’t help the smile in his voice.  He brings his hand up to scratch behind her ear and she nuzzles in further before backing up and running off to circle a tree not too far away._

_He resolves then and there to remain by her side for the remainder of the night._

-

Once past the tree line and in the woods, it’s like walking into a different world.  Melbourne is a comfortable weight at her side, though there are still a few inches between them.  These moments alone with him still feel special, worth relishing, though they are no longer as rare as they once were, not since the wedding.  They walk in amiable silence for several minutes until they reach a nice clearing.  He walks to the center of it and unrolls the blanket he’d been carrying, laying it down on the ground.

Victoria drops a bag next to it and stares up at the rapidly darkening sky through the treetops.  “We have a little while, not long,” she informs him.  Already she can feel a thrumming in her bones.  Her ribcage feels ready to expand with every breath, her lungs ready to breathe in everything around them.

He grabs her shoulders and pulls her to him, rests his forehead against hers.  “You are beautiful, always.  Every part of you.”

She smiles softly, letting the words settle in her.  They are almost entirely bathed in darkness now.  The moon feels less of an intruder like it used to; now it feels like a hand reaching out to her, welcoming.  “It’s coming,” she breathes.

They both drop their hands into the folds of her skirt.  A simple nightgown, chosen for easy removal and expendability if necessary.  They pull it over her head together and she lets go, letting him drop the dress onto the blanket beside them.

“I love you,” she whispers almost reverently.  His head drops down the remaining space between them, bringing his lips to hers.  She returns the kiss, even as she feels her bones begin to break and rebuild.

-

Melbourne’s fingers curl into her fur for a moment, holding her close.  When he lets go, she doesn’t run off immediately, choosing instead to lightly brush her head against his chest.  Then she’s off, bounding through the trees in the moonlight.

He sits down on the blanket, staring in the direction she disappeared in her excitement.  He smiles to himself, admitting that this is a shape he never expected happiness to come in.

In the distance, he listens to her howl.

**Author's Note:**

> because a Tooth & Claw inspired au had to happen at some point.
> 
> Chapter two will include the morning after, understanding what happened that night, Uncle Leopold's arrival, the push for marriage, and the conclusion.


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